


late night chats

by eatjins



Series: the gregson holmes children [1]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatjins/pseuds/eatjins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds it hard to sleep at night. Detective Thomas "Tommy" Gregson comes home late from work.</p><p>The AU where Sherlock and Mycroft are orphaned by a terrible accident and thereafter adopted by an American couple, the Gregsons. Also, the AU where the Gregsons and the Watsons are neighbours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	late night chats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taz/gifts).



Tommy hangs his coat up on the stand with a little bit of difficulty, squinting in the darkness as he shuffles through the sitting room to get into the kitchen. He's tired after a long day of work at the precinct and he's sleepy enough that he needs a glass of water to perk him up a bit so that he can take a shower. Taking that into account, he thinks it's justifiable when he shouts rather loudly at near midnight when he hears a soft, accented voice speak up abruptly. He'll blame it on the exhaustion if Cheryl wakes up.

"Don't need to pull your gun, it's just me," is what prompted him to crash into the armchair next to him.

When he hits the lights, artificial illumination flooding the sitting room, he finds the tiny figure of his adopted son sitting on the couch frowning at him. Tommy doesn't feel offended by the less than warm welcome home. The young child has a tendency to frown at everyone and everything. In the several months that the two of them have legally become family, Tommy doesn't think he's ever seen his son smile. He supposes, though, that the fact could be attributed to his long working hours and his inability to spend a proper afternoon with his family.

"Sherlock, what are you doing up?" he asks, shoulders relaxing now that he's sure that no one has broken into his house and the person in his sitting room isn't some sinister serial killer. He plops himself down into the armchair he'd collided with, the one that is opposite of where Sherlock has perched himself, dressed in his pyjamas but definitely not asleep. The boy's frown seems to deepen and Tommy isn't sure that he's going to get an answer, but it comes after a long moment's pause.

"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking of my parents," Sherlock is concise and curt with his words. A damned little genius, if Tommy had ever seen one, but a good kid nonetheless. He kind of thought the way Sherlock spoke could be pinned on the fact that the boy was British too. He looks at his son and the words don't come easily. He knew what he was getting into when he and Cheryl had put in the paperwork, but knowing a situation and actually dealing with it are two entirely different things. He doesn't regret adopting his sons, God no, but he doesn't know how to comfort a child who has lost his parents in a fatal car accident.

"I was gonna get a glass of water from the kitchen. Do you want to join me?" he jerks a thumb in the direction he speaks of, awkward, but Sherlock is studying with him an unwavering gaze. He receives an affirmative nod for his question and Sherlock is sliding off the couch, the look in his eyes expectant. Tommy gets to his feet, offering a hand to the boy. The frown that had temporarily slid off Sherlock's face returns with a vengeance, but a small hand shoves itself into his and he wraps his fingers around it with a small smile. The two of them head into the kitchen and Sherlock pulls away first, when they reach the kitchen counter. Pulling out two glasses, Tommy prepares to pour water into both of them.

"Can I have warm milk, please?" Sherlock requests, tone unnecessarily formal and polite. Tommy glances down at the boy and nods an okay, getting himself his water and then moving to fix Sherlock a glass of warm milk. Milk from the fridge and heated in the microwave for half a minute or so. They don't speak while he's dragging himself across the kitchen. Him because he still hasn't figured out the right thing to say and Sherlock because the boy is just standing by the counter watchfully.

When Tommy is done heating the milk in a mug, he grabs a small hand towel and ties it around the cup before he passes it over to Sherlock. As he sips from his cup of water, Sherlock thanks him and peers into the mug like he didn't already know it was milk inside. He can't guess or figure out what Sherlock is actually thinking. It occurs to him that he should really fix that. As a cop, he has a duty to the city to keep it safe, but as Sherlock just stares down at his milk, Tommy knows he has a duty to his family to take care of it beyond just putting food on the table.

"I don't miss them," Sherlock breaks the silence between them, looking up with the frown etched across his features. The milk is cooling and probably isn't that warm anymore, but Tommy doesn't point that out. "It just doesn't make sense to me," the boy adds as if it should clarify his previous statement. It doesn't, at all, if anything it makes things even more confusing for Tommy. How could a kid not miss his parents? Sherlock was 6 years old, old enough that he'd understand who and what his parents were and what it meant for them to have died in a car accident.

"What doesn't make sense?" his question is honest and curious. His son was a smart kid. _Still a kid_ , he reminds himself.

"How do parents just die and leave their children behind? And how do you and Cheryl suddenly become our parents? Mycroft says it just happens, that's why he calls you and Cheryl 'dad and mum'," the genuine confusion in Sherlock's voice makes Tommy squat down, so that he's more level with his son. "How do I have two dads and two mums? No one else has two dads and two mums. Watson next door has one dad and one mum. All my friends in school have two parents. How is it that I have four?" Sherlock punctuates his question by aiming a determined look at the mug of milk and then trying to finish it in one breath. Tommy lets him finish the mug, takes it from him and then looks at Sherlock in the eye. The boy doesn't back down and looks right back at him, still perplexed.

"Your parents didn't leave you and Mycroft behind because they wanted to. The car accident made them do that. And Cheryl and I are your parents in the eyes of the law. We want to take care of you 'cause your parents can't anymore. And hey, maybe you're the only one with four parents now, but it doesn't mean that's gonna stay that way. It's just how things are right now. Maybe next time your friends will have four parents too, or more. Nobody knows for sure," Tommy hadn't realised it was possible, but he finds himself a little amazed when Sherlock's frown manages to intensify. His explanation doesn't seem to have cleared much up, but Sherlock doesn't protest what he says or ask anymore questions. 

"If you are my dad, can I sleep with you and Cheryl tonight?" he sets the empty mug in the sink, along with the glass he'd used for his water, then he looks at Sherlock who hasn't stopped frowning but is now staring out of the window into the distance.

"Sure, buddy. As long as it doesn't happen too often," Tommy picks Sherlock up underneath the the armpits, getting out of the kitchen and switching off the lights that he'd put on after he'd gotten into the house to find Sherlock awake. On a regular basis, if it weren't way past Sherlock's bedtime and the young child hadn't been thinking about his dead parents, Tommy thinks his son would've protested to being carried like the toddler that he isn't anymore. Tonight, Sherlock appears to find comfort in the touch, judging from the way he rests his chin on Tommy's shoulder without a word.

In the bedroom, where Cheryl is sound asleep on her side of the bed, Tommy sets Sherlock down on the bed with a promise to return after a quick shower. When he comes back, hair wet and comfortable in his own pyjamas, he finds his younger son already asleep. He notes that Sherlock doesn't frown in his sleep, at least. He climbs into bed and hopes that Mycroft doesn't get upset by these sorts of things in the morning. He closes his eyes to go to sleep, when he hears Sherlock mumble softly.

"Goodnight, dad." The use of an affectionate title throws Tommy off, but not as much as Sherlock's late night appearance initially had. He smiles and tucks his arm under his head.

"Goodnight, buddy." He hadn't been expecting late night chats to start at such a young age, but he figures he doesn't really mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Gifted to Taz, for being a writer that caught my eye in the fandom. Not the kind of Holmes/Gregson I had initially been interested in, but I don't think this is too bad either.
> 
> First time writing in a television show fandom and I've never read the actual ACD novels. I hope I don't get shot for a terrible mis-portrayal of the characters. I also didn't think this through much. 6:30am after an all-nighter is not the most coherent of writing times and I didn't check through for mistakes either. Oh well.


End file.
